


So Baby, Won't You Take My Hand?

by mickeysbubblebutt (brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly)



Series: Park Time Misadventures [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:03:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly/pseuds/mickeysbubblebutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey turned to face Ian, on the verge of asking him some inane question, just to get the conversation going again, when he noticed that Ian’s attention was fixed somewhere above him. Curious, Mickey followed his gaze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Baby, Won't You Take My Hand?

_This was a bad fuckin’ idea._

Mickey was in one of those stupid hipster coffee shops, shifting uncomfortably on his rickety chair, stirring at the swill these assholes insisted was coffee. It’d been an ordeal on its own to order the stuff, with the pinhead behind the counter trying to convince him to get an espresso or a macchiato, whatever the fuck that was.

So now Mickey was waiting. And he was twitchy.

The phone call he’d been both dreading and anticipating for days had come through that morning. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table while Svetlana cooed at Yevgeny, when his cell phone had started buzzing.

Jumping a little at the sound, Mickey had stared at his phone indecisively. Ian’s name flashed across his screen; swallowing hard, Mickey could feel Svetlana watching him curiously. He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t eaten yet.

_Shit, shit, shit._

“Hello?” he answered before he could pussy out.

“Hey, Mick.”

“Uh, hi.”

Silence for a few seconds. He could hear Ian clearing his throat.

“Is this-is this weird?” Ian asked.

“A little,” Mickey conceded.

“Maybe we shouldn’t–?”

“No!” Mickey said hastily. “No, it’s… It’s okay.”

Ian didn’t reply for a moment.

“You wanna meet me for coffee?”

It was on the tip of Mickey’s tongue to tell Ian that he shouldn’t be drinking coffee; even after all this time, it was instinct.

_But it wasn’t his business_ , Mickey reminded himself.  _Not anymore_

“Sure, that’d be… great. Where?”

_God, this was uncomfortable._

“The Coffee Beanery sound okay? At eight?”

Searching his memory, Mickey vaguely remembered that they’d opened one of those a couple blocks over. He was pretty sure he and his brothers had shot at the place.

_Huh. Resilient fuckers._

“Yeah. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you, Mick.”

As Mickey hung up, he was aware of a stillness in the house. He turned to find Svetlana giving him an arch look.

“You are going on date?”

“It’s not a date,” Mickey said defensively. There was no way in hell he was going to tell her that he’d made plans to meet up with Ian, so he fudged on the details a little. “Just, y'know, an old friend.”

Svetlana scoffed.

“You do not have old friends,” she pointed out. “Do not even have new friends.”

_Okay, that was sort of true_. Rather than argue, though, Mickey gave an irritable shrug.

“Whatever. I’m probably gonna be home late.”

And now Mickey was second guessing himself. Because there was no way this could be a good idea.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ian voice came from just behind him.

Responding instinctively, he glanced up; his heart started racing. Ian was wearing a plaid shirt, jeans that hugged his long legs, and his hair was slightly windswept. But what caught Mickey’s attention was the sheepish smile on Ian’s face.

_He’d missed that expression._

“Debbie was having a meltdown, and someone needed to talk her down,” Ian was explaining. He hesitated before taking a seat. “Gimme a sec, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He seemed to be waiting for Mickey to answer him. Taking a second too long, Mickey gave a jerky nod of his head.

It was impossible to keep his gaze off of Ian as he crossed the coffee shop. He allowed himself to take in all the tiny details that he’d missed, refamiliarised himself with the set of Ian’s shoulders, and the easy way he interacted with the barista.

There was a faint tug of shame at staring like this, but he ignored it.

Striding back over to the table, Ian took a seat across from Mickey. His big hands were cupping the mug, and Mickey’s eyes lingered there for a moment before he hastily brought his eyes up to Ian’s.

Only to find Ian gazing intently at him, too.

“You look good,” Ian told him.

Instinct had Mickey ducking his head a little as a flush spread across his cheeks.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “You, too.”

“So what’s goin’ on with you? How’re Yev and Svetlana?”

“Yev is…” Mickey shook his head as a reluctant grin tugged at the edges of his mouth. “Yev is payback for all the shit I pulled as a kid,” he said honestly.

A startled laugh escaped Ian, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

“That bad, huh?”

“ _Christ,_ ” he breathed. “Kid runs me an’ Lana fuckin’ ragged.”

“How… how is Svetlana?” Ian asked, hesitant for the first time, his smile fading.

“She’s good. Got a job at the grocery store. Been kinda smug ‘bout it since she can bring groceries home now. What ‘bout you? You said you got your GED?”

“Yeah. It was tough,” Ian admitted. “I didn’t know if I was gonna get it.”

“Course you’d get it.” Mickey gave him a strange look. “You’re smart, an’ you work your ass off. Why wouldn’t you get it?”

The redhead shrugged, and rather than answering, he took a sip of his drink. Mickey watched in fascination as Ian pulled a face.

“What’s wrong? These assholes get your order wrong?”

“Not that. Doctor told me to lay off the caffeine, so I’ve had to cut back on the coffee some. Now I’m stuck with goddamn chamomile tea. It helps me sleep, but it tastes like shit.”

Stupid, the relief Mickey felt at hearing that Ian was listening to the doctors now, that he was taking care of himself. Mickey forced his voice to be casual.

“You must be goin’ crazy.”

_Shit. Fuckin’ big mouth asshole,_  Mickey mentally berated himself. His eyes shot to Ian’s, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Except Ian looked like he was trying not to laugh,

“Oh, my god,” he snickered. “You should see your face.” His shoulders shook with laughter for a minute before he pulled himself together. “I stick to one in the mornin’. Some days are harder than others.”

They were quiet for a moment. Only this time, it wasn’t awkward. Mickey could feel Ian’s knees bumping against his under the small table.

_It was nice._

“You wanna get outta here?” Ian asked him suddenly.

“What?”

“Maybe go for a walk, or somethin’? This place is kinda crowded.” Ian quickly backtracked, “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Nuh, man, it’s cool. Let’s go.”

Abandoning his half-finished, over-priced coffee on the table, Mickey stood up. Intensely aware of Ian trailing behind him. They walked for a couple of minutes, side by side, and Mickey wasn’t sure where they were going. Every now and then, he could feel Ian’s hand brushing against his.

Somehow they ended up back at the park. Ian led the way over to the swingsets, and sat down on one, his long legs stretching out before him.

“Seriously?” Mickey raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yeah, why not?” Ian grinned up at him. “Mandy and I used to come here all the time.”

Both their smiles faded at the mention of Mickey’s sister. While she’d left Kenyatta’s sorry ass, Mandy hadn’t come back to the South Side. Instead, she’d left Indiana for Ohio. She was trying her hand at cosmetology. Mickey missed her, but she seemed happy where she was.

Not wanting to put a damper on their night, Mickey heaved a sigh before easing himself onto the swing beside Ian; it seemed sturdy enough. He relaxed more of his weight onto it.

Mickey turned to face Ian, on the verge of asking him some inane question, just to get the conversation going again, when he noticed that Ian’s attention was fixed somewhere above him. Curious, Mickey followed his gaze.

Nothing.

“What?” Mickey asked as Ian kept his gaze on the sky.

“Hmmm?”

“You lookin’ out for a UFO, or somethin’?”

Ian smirked at him from over on his swing.

“Nope. I was just thinkin’ that, y’know, we can see the stars from here.”

“Okaaaay…” Mickey gave Ian a weird look, wondering where that had come from. Sure, most nights the stars were almost impossible to see with the lights and smog that rose above the city, but he’d never figured Ian would be into stargazing, or whatever.

“We should’ve brought a blanket,” Ian commented blandly after a moment.

It took a second for understanding to dawn, and then Mickey found himself fighting a grin.

“Dick,” he muttered, aiming a half-hearted kick at Ian’s shin.

They spent a few seconds smiling at each other like fucking idiots before Ian spoke again. His voice was unexpectedly serious.

“I’m sorry.”

“The fuck for?” Mickey asked, nonplussed.

“You know… about what happened before.”

The lightheartedness from only moments earlier abruptly dissipated. Now, he couldn’t look at Ian as a tight feeling took hold of his chest. Mickey hated that memory, more than any other in his fucked up life.

“We don’t gotta talk about it,” he said hoarsely.

“Look, Mickey, I just want you to know–”

“Don’t,” Mickey cut him off. “I can’t–” He took a deep breath, struggling to hold on to his composure. “I gotta go.”

Standing up abruptly, Mickey wanted to get the hell out of there before he lost it. He’d thought he’d managed to more or less bury the hurt of that morning. Hell, it’d been three fucking years; he should’ve been over it.

But for Ian to bring it up like that, completely out of the blue?

_Jesus, he couldn’t handle that._

“Mick, wait. Please, I’m sorry.”

Long fingers closed over Mickey’s wrist, bringing him to a halt. He knew he should pull away, just get the fuck out of this stupid fucking park, and back home.

Where it was safe.

Instead, he stood there, absorbing Ian’s touch. If he could just focus on that, maybe he’d be able to drown out the words that were sure to tear into him.

“I didn’t mean–” Ian let out a frustrated sound. He reached out to take hold of Mickey’s shoulder, turning Mickey around to face him. “I wanted to call you. For-for fucking months, that’s all I thought about. Making it up to you, somehow. And all I could think was…  _Jesus_ , maybe you were better off.”

Ian abruptly fell silent. For a moment, Mickey wasn’t sure if he should pull the stubborn jackass into his arms, or punch him in the face.

Opting for silence, Mickey waited for Ian to continue. Instead, Ian kept staring at him, a pleading expression on his face.

_Fuck it._

Three years worth of missing this stupid, misguided, pain in the ass had Mickey closing the distance between them. Not stopping to think about the consequences, he reached out to cup Ian’s face in his hands, bringing their lips together.

Ian still tasted the same. His lips were soft, and they were parted in surprise. Taking advantage, Mickey slid his tongue along Ian’s, feeling a jolt that spread through his entire body as Ian responded. He felt strong arms wrapping themselves around his waist; it was all so familiar, as though no time had passed at all.

For a long while, Mickey allowed himself to get lost in the contact. Finally, they broke the kiss, each gasping for breath; Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s.

Neither of them moved.

_You shouldn’t have done that_ , a little voice whispered in the back of Mickey’s mind. As good as it had felt, there was no way this could’ve been a good idea.

“I gotta go,” Mickey whispered. He pulled away from Ian’s touch quickly, band aid style.

“Wait, what? Mick, what’s wrong?” Ian’s dreamy expression had given way to confusion. He reached out for Mickey again, causing Mickey to almost trip over his own feet in an effort to get away from him.

Shaking his head, Mickey tried to ignore the fact that his hands were trembling.

“It-it’s late, an’ I-I got work in the mornin’,” he stammered, still backing away. “I’ll see you ‘round, maybe.”

Mickey couldn’t get out of that stupid fucking park fast enough.


End file.
